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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Do
what
he
would
,
a
smile
would
come
into
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
face
;
the
smile
extended
into
a
laugh
;
the
laugh
into
a
roar
;
the
roar
became
general
.
So
,
to
keep
up
their
good
-
humour
,
they
stopped
at
the
first
roadside
tavern
they
came
to
,
and
ordered
a
glass
of
brandy
-
and
-
water
all
round
,
with
a
magnum
of
extra
strength
for
Mr
.
Samuel
Weller
.
In
the
ground
-
floor
front
of
a
dingy
house
,
at
the
very
farthest
end
of
Freeman
’
s
Court
,
Cornhill
,
sat
the
four
clerks
of
Messrs
.
Dodson
&
Fogg
,
two
of
his
Majesty
’
s
attorneys
of
the
courts
of
King
’
s
Bench
and
Common
Pleas
at
Westminster
,
and
solicitors
of
the
High
Court
of
Chancery
—
the
aforesaid
clerks
catching
as
favourable
glimpses
of
heaven
’
s
light
and
heaven
’
s
sun
,
in
the
course
of
their
daily
labours
,
as
a
man
might
hope
to
do
,
were
he
placed
at
the
bottom
of
a
reasonably
deep
well
;
and
without
the
opportunity
of
perceiving
the
stars
in
the
day
-
time
,
which
the
latter
secluded
situation
affords
.
The
clerks
’
office
of
Messrs
.
Dodson
&
Fogg
was
a
dark
,
mouldy
,
earthy
-
smelling
room
,
with
a
high
wainscotted
partition
to
screen
the
clerks
from
the
vulgar
gaze
,
a
couple
of
old
wooden
chairs
,
a
very
loud
-
ticking
clock
,
an
almanac
,
an
umbrella
-
stand
,
a
row
of
hat
-
pegs
,
and
a
few
shelves
,
on
which
were
deposited
several
ticketed
bundles
of
dirty
papers
,
some
old
deal
boxes
with
paper
labels
,
and
sundry
decayed
stone
ink
bottles
of
various
shapes
and
sizes
.
There
was
a
glass
door
leading
into
the
passage
which
formed
the
entrance
to
the
court
,
and
on
the
outer
side
of
this
glass
door
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
closely
followed
by
Sam
Weller
,
presented
himself
on
the
Friday
morning
succeeding
the
occurrence
of
which
a
faithful
narration
is
given
in
the
last
chapter
.
‘
Come
in
,
can
’
t
you
!
’
cried
a
voice
from
behind
the
partition
,
in
reply
to
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
gentle
tap
at
the
door
.
And
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
Sam
entered
accordingly
.
‘
Mr
.
Dodson
or
Mr
.
Fogg
at
home
,
sir
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
gently
,
advancing
,
hat
in
hand
,
towards
the
partition
.
‘
Mr
.
Dodson
ain
’
t
at
home
,
and
Mr
.
Fogg
’
s
particularly
engaged
,
’
replied
the
voice
;
and
at
the
same
time
the
head
to
which
the
voice
belonged
,
with
a
pen
behind
its
ear
,
looked
over
the
partition
,
and
at
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
it
was
a
ragged
head
,
the
sandy
hair
of
which
,
scrupulously
parted
on
one
side
,
and
flattened
down
with
pomatum
,
was
twisted
into
little
semi
-
circular
tails
round
a
flat
face
ornamented
with
a
pair
of
small
eyes
,
and
garnished
with
a
very
dirty
shirt
collar
,
and
a
rusty
black
stock
.
‘
Mr
.
Dodson
ain
’
t
at
home
,
and
Mr
.
Fogg
’
s
particularly
engaged
,
’
said
the
man
to
whom
the
head
belonged
.
‘
When
will
Mr
.
Dodson
be
back
,
sir
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Can
’
t
say
.
’
‘
Will
it
be
long
before
Mr
.
Fogg
is
disengaged
,
Sir
?
’
